


The Ring Cycle

by Lumelle



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crack, Inanimate Objects, M/M, POV Inanimate Object, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 10:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6420787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ring has seen many a beautiful, precious thing in his day, but nothing that gleams quite like the Arkenstone. The Arkenstone, on the other hand, is used to being admired, yet there is something quite different about the admiration of the Ring than that of a thousand mortals.</p><p>As long as they shine and entice as they do, though, they can never be together, as people will soon hide them away. The ingenious solution? Use some of their power -- well, mostly the Ring's power -- to create something else.</p><p>They have the prettiest little pebbles, naturally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ring Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> You know that story? The one where love turns the villain over and redeems them? This is my take on that story.
> 
> Or, it's April 1st, so I figured I should write some crack.

In another story, their tales end in tragedy.

In another story, one of them is closed off in a dusty tomb, there to be buried and forgotten as the times and peoples move on and ages turn, lost to all and himself above all. The other is cast off in flames and fire, burning in his last moments in the hands of his most miserable bearer, destroyed for the good of all. That is the story everyone knows, the one that is passed on to children and children of children, the one that rings throughout time.

That is not their story, the story where they get their happy end.

This story is different.

*

It took a moment for the Ring to realise he had gained a companion.

It wasn't that he wasn't aware that the hobbit had picked up something and shoved it into his pocket, of course. He had been there to see it happen, and wasn't too surprised to witness such a thing. The little creature seemed to have a weakness for shiny objects, after all, which wasn't exactly to the Ring's disadvantage, so he didn't pay much attention to it at first. They were near a treasure hoard, after all, so of course the hobbit would pick up shinies. Most people grew more greedy when they held the Ring for a while, and the hobbit had been quite tempted from the first moment he saw the Ring.

Then, however, the new shiny thing started speaking.

It was faint at first, particularly since they were not in the same pocket, so the Ring didn't truly realise where the voice was coming from. He thought it might have been the dragon whispering, or perhaps some dwarven ghosts from years past. After listening for some time, though, he realised he had company. Company that was not of mortal stock, at that.

Then the hobbit put them in the same pocket for the first time, and the Ring saw the other one for the first time.

The Ring had seen many a great thing in his time. Sure, the last few centuries or perhaps millennia had been rather lean in that respect, but before that he had been attached to some of the most powerful creatures of all time, and such circumstances often came with various types of riches about. Certainly, he had not seen anything quite like the dragon hoard that glittered and glimmered before his eyes when the hobbit took him out to sneak about, but he was not new to the idea of pretty things. This, however… this was something different.

He had seen the stone before, however briefly, when the hobbit had first picked it up. However, at the time he had been a bit too focused on the whole using his powers thing, and there had been plenty of other shining treasures besides. As such, the Ring had not been paying too much attention. Now, though, he did, and he had never seen anything quite so enticing.

Even in the darkness of a pocket the stone had a sort of a soft glow to it, enchanting in a way the Ring could tell was not the healthiest of things. He might have even thought it was threatening, reminding him of the heat and burn of the volcano, but this was a colder light, a distant night sky instead of a blazing fire. It was… beautiful, and for the first time, Ring found himself being the one drawn in instead of doing the tempting.

And it spoke. Oh, it spoke. It seemed the stone had been as lonely as the Ring had been, being held by a dragon that would not listen to his call, though his exile in the depths of a treasure hoard had been much shorter than the Ring's lonely darkness with only a wretched little creature speaking to him without ever listening. The hobbit at least listened sometimes, wasn't quite as far gone, but it was still not a conversation. The Arkenstone soon told him the situation was rather similar; people under his thrall would often speak at him, but never quite with him.

The Ring was quite happy to listen and respond, though. It was much more entertaining than trying to convince the hobbit to provide any actual interaction.

The Ring was aware of the concept of love, had encountered it and manipulated it and twisted it to his ends often enough. However, he had never thought it was possible for him to love, had thought himself beyond any such obvious weakness. Because a weakness it had to be, to feel himself bound to any one creature or thing, to set anyone else before his own goals.

Except he had no goals at present except to find his happiness, no nations to conquer or armies to vanquish, and for once his bearer was not giving him such goals, either. The hobbit did not seem interested in glory or treasure beyond his little weakness for the beautiful shining things, nor did the Ring thing he was likely to shut himself off in a cave for centuries. Well, not unless the dwarven king did something spectacularly stupid, given that he and the hobbit seemed to consider each other rather shiny indeed. The Ring wasn't sure if that was love — it was more like obsession for the dwarf king, from what he could see, but then the Ring was familiar with obsession. Obsession tended to happen around him, and more often than not he encouraged it.

And, well. The dwarf king wanted the stone, and the hobbit had the Ring. Clearly the king's obsession for the hobbit could only ensure that the Ring had more time with his precious shining Stone who always had some snarky comment or interesting tale to share. They had plenty of fun criticising the strange ways of mortals, while those around them grew more and more erratic and strained. It was a familiar thing, one that would only end in disaster, and the Ring was all set to watch and enjoy it all come to its hopefully bloody end.

Then, the hobbit gave the Stone away, and everything changed.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Mortals were not supposed to give up the shinies of their own accord. Perhaps the hobbit might have handed the stone over to his king for the sake of his love or obsession or whatever it was, but this? This was not what the Ring had expected. The hobbit had handed the Stone over, to someone he did not love, and now there was no telling what might happen.

For the first time in his long existence, the Ring was uncertain of the outcome of the battle that was sure to come. Before, it had never mattered, because nothing on the battlefield could destroy him and even if his bearer somehow failed to overcome his enemies, he would still be picked up by whoever claimed victory. Survival was not a worry for him, and it wasn't like he had ever become attached to his bearers, save that some of them were more useful than others.

Except if the dwarven king died, the hobbit would have no reason to remain, and nothing would ever bring the Ring back to the Arkenstone.

This would not be allowed. The Ring could not allow such a thing to happen. Not now that he had finally found a goal that he wanted to accomplish for his own sake, rather than enjoying the twisted minds of his bearers.

It wasn't easy, using his powers to change things, particularly not when his hopeless little bearer decided to get himself in trouble. However, the Ring had faced worse circumstances before. He could make this work.

For the first time in his long existence the Ring was planning to use his influence to help someone other than his bearer. And all the flames of Mount Doom as his witness, he was going to succeed. He was going to be reunited with his precious again.

All right, perhaps his previous bearer had been a rather bad influence.

*

The Arkenstone was worried.

This was new. Not because he had thought himself incapable of worry, no, he was capable of a lot more things than just being beautiful and enticing, but because there had never been anything for him to be truly concerned about before. He had no memories of his time before he had been unearthed, but ever since the dwarves had found him, he had been enjoying constant adoration and worship. Well, he had, until the dragon had arrived. Smaug did like treasure well enough, but had not truly seen just how much more important the Arkenstone was than the rest of the hoard. You could have piles upon piles of gold, the treasure was enough proof of that, but there was only one Arkenstone, and the dragon completely failed to appreciate that.

Except now the dragon was dead, and the battle was over, and Arkenstone was returned to the dwarves who adored and admired him as he should be admired, and yet the Stone was worried.

At one time the Stone would have been quite happy to be back in dwarven hands, who knew his true value and showed it. He was polished and set up on a pedestal, there to wait until they could fit him back on the throne. It wasn't bad, for all that he was kept in the king's personal rooms safe from thieves rather than out there for everyone to admire, and really, he should have been more than satisfied with his existence.

Except the Ring wasn't there.

Oh, the hobbit still had the Ring, that much was clear. Arkenstone could hear him whenever the hobbit came to the king's chambers, could speak to him in turn. It was faint, though, only barely enough for them to actually converse, and both the hobbit and the dwarf seemed to get uneasy if they talked for too long, for all that the mortals could not hear them if they didn't want it. Worse yet, he hadn't actually seen the Ring since the hobbit had first given him away, and frankly didn't expect to get the chance any time soon.

"It will only get worse," the Ring said one day, sounding rather dismayed at the idea of admitting something was beyond his capabilities. "It always happens. The longer he holds me, the more securely he will hide me away. And you will be set up on the throne, and he will never take me out in public."

"If the dwarf doesn't grow jealous and lock me away as well, and then we cannot even speak to each other." The Stone sighed. "Isn't there anything we can do to stop that?" Because as much as he loved being admired, he was getting used to the joy of an actual conversational partner.

"I'm afraid not." The Ring sounded no more pleased about the situation than the Stone was. "Even if I am not trying to manipulate him, it will happen eventually. I cannot really hold back my power, no more than you can be any less enchanting to gaze at."

That was a sweet thing to say. The Ring always knew the best things to say, and if the Stone had been a mere mortal, it might have been drawn into its thrall. As it was, the Stone had some charm of his own to resist the call. Not that he wanted to resist all that much. "Then… I suppose there is not much we can do."

"Well." The Ring sounded awfully speculative, and really the Stone should have been worried, knowing the Ring's reputation, and the stories they had both shared. However, he was convinced the Ring was on his side, so clearly he could trust in his companion's plans. "There is one solution, but it may not be easy."

"And what is it?" Because all the admiration of the dwarves could not compare to the feeling of having the Ring's attention all on himself.

"If we can weaken ourselves, they will not want to hide us away so much." That was… not a plan the Stone had expected. "Not enough to lose ourselves, just enough that we can control our influence over the mortal minds."

"And how are we to do that?" That sounded rather impossible. "It's not like we can break off pieces of ourselves, and I at least don't like the idea."

"Not as such, no, but we can do something similar." And then, the Ring smiled. It might not have had a face, and the Stone couldn't even see it right now, but there was definitely a smile there, or perhaps a smirk. "We can use our power to create something else."

Then, the Ring explained its plan in detail. The Stone could not say it disagreed.

They got the chance to work their plan soon enough. After ages of beating about the bush, the hobbit finally decided to stay over for the night. After the mortals were done with their coupling and drifted off to sleep, the Ring rolled out of the pocket of a discarded waistcoat, bouncing its way along the floor and up to the pedestal where the Stone was lying.

The Stone might have sighed happily as the Ring bounced up to land on top of him, but then, it wasn't like anyone but the two of them could hear.

It was a complicated process, but luckily they had all night to themselves. And, well, it wasn't unpleasant at all. Most of the work at the moment was done by the Ring, who had much more power to spare, pouring all that delicious, burning energy into the Stone. It felt like a fire, a warm and comforting one and not the burning blazes of the dragon, and the Stone had never felt anything quite so pleasant.

They almost forgot themselves, and all the night that they'd had ran out far too soon. The Ring just barely managed to roll off the Stone in time to slip his way back into the hobbit's pocket. The Stone almost missed him already, but there was no time for such concerns.

He had a very important project to work on, now. And he had enough of a dwarven mind to him, after so many years of being the king's jewel, that he was certain he would do an excellent job indeed.

*

Something was… strange.

Bilbo couldn't quite put his finger on it. There was no specific thing he could point to that would make him think so, but there was a strange feeling he could not shake. It had been there for days now, and it just wouldn't go away, no matter how he kept telling himself there was nothing the matter. Rather, it just grew stronger, a sense of something being amiss for all that his life continued on as before.

Well. For a certain value of before, anyway. He rather suspected the him from a couple of years back would have been quite surprised to find himself in a dwarven mountain, a friend — and perhaps more — with a king of dwarves. Because Thorin was a king at last, now, a king with a crown and a mountain and the king's jewel, and somehow he still wanted Bilbo around.

It was Thorin who once again shook Bilbo out of his strange feeling, calling his name from the other side of the room. He was standing next to the pedestal on which the Arkenstone lay, which really should have worried Bilbo, but Thorin hadn't showed any proper signs of the gold madness since the battle. He had come to his senses during it, or so the rest of the Company told Bilbo, and then narrowly escaped death on the battlefield, and right now he was frowning at the Arkenstone. That was not the face of a dwarf driven mad, so Bilbo was not overly concerned for Thorin's mind as he set down his book — a dusty old tome from the depths of the royal library — and walked over to Thorin.

"Yes?" He leaned in closer, looking at the stone. It looked just like he remembered it, more or less. "Am I supposed to be seeing something?"

"Here." Thorin touched the stone, only briefly, as though afraid it might enthral him if he touched it for too long. Bilbo appreciated the precaution, for all that he wasn't sure touch would be any worse than sight in this case. "Do you see that?"

Bilbo was about to give a negative answer, only then his eyes caught it, too. Somewhere under the gleaming surface of the stone there were shadows. Small, almost imperceptible shadows, really just slightly dimmer spots in the stone's light, but they were there. "Yes, I can see it." He frowned. "What is that?"

"I have no idea." Thorin shook his head. "It's not on the surface, so it's not dirt or scratches. It almost looks like there might be cracks inside the stone, but it hasn't been dropped. It's not like just anyone can get their hands on it, after all, and I would know if I had managed to knock it down."

"Well, there is always Fíli and Kíli." It occurred to Bilbo right after he said this that this might be a bad idea. For all that Thorin seemed free of his madness, who was to say it wouldn't return if he had reason to suspect his nephews of wrongdoing against the gleaming stone? However, Thorin simply snorted, running a hand over his hair.

"Well, they are the most likely culprits, aren't they? Unless you are hiding a strangely clumsy streak, and I happen to be of the understanding that you are rather agile and clever in the way you move."

"Yes, well, I would be a rather poor burglar if I wasn't." Bilbo smirked. "Of course, if you insist on paying more attention to stones than me…"

Thorin growled something quite filthy about the kind of stones he was going to pay attention to, but really, Bilbo was quite fine with that. Especially when it was followed by a rather fierce kiss and wandering hands.

Bilbo forgot about it for a while, then, both the strange shadows within the Arkenstone and the unsettled feeling. A couple of days later, though, he happened to glance at the stone, and paused. He knew its shape well enough, knew the smooth level surface and rounded shape. He also knew damn well there were not supposed to be little bumps on the stone.

Thorin came very nearly running as Bilbo called for him, eyes widening as he saw the same thing at a single glance. "That's not a crack for sure," he murmured, running his hand over the stone. "This — they are part of the stone, but how?"

"I don't know," Bilbo replied, shoving his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't start fiddling with something. He wasn't sure what this was about, but it was unsettling to say the least. That stone was bad news, he didn't want it doing anything unexpected. "I think we should —" His fingers brushed against the ring, secure in his pocket, and for once it didn't feel strangely cold or warm. Instead, it was quite comfortable to the touch as he held it in his fingers, careful not to slip it on as he fiddled with it. "I think it's probably nothing."

"What are you talking about?" Thorin frowned deeply. "There is clearly some sort of witchcraft going on, here!"

"And what are you going to do about it? Break it apart? It's not like we truly know if the stone holds any power, besides that to bewitch all who love shiny things." And it was very pretty to look at, even Bilbo could see that. "If it grows little legs and starts walking about, then we can worry. For now, there isn't anything we can do except not touch it and see what happens."

"I… suppose you're right." Thorin sighed. "I don't like this. I don't want anyone coming close to it until we know what's going on."

"Well, in that case, you should probably distract me from this puzzle, don't you think?"

And really, he should probably start wearing something a bit easier to remove just for convenience's sake, but then Thorin's own clothes had far too many layers as well. Not that it mattered by the time it was all on the floor, of course.

Thorin, being Thorin, managed to distract Bilbo quite thoroughly for the next couple of days again, with the time that Thorin spent doing actual ruling used up quite efficiently by naps and meals. Therefore by the time Bilbo happened to glance at the stone again, something had changed.

"Thorin?" He frowned, poking at one of the offending objects. "Did you leave these beads here?" Because beads they were, small and round and with a hole through the middle, all shining with the same soft light as the stone itself.

"Beads?" Thorin looked up from the paperwork he'd been struggling with, frowning. "What beads?"

"These ones." Bilbo picked one up, holding it up to the light. The bead shimmered with a sort of inner glow, beckoning him. "They are quite pretty, I have to say."

"That's… I have no idea where those came from." Thorin picked one up as well. "I like them, though. They seem… pleasant, for lack of a better word."

Bilbo chuckled. "Of course a dwarf would find some mood to a stone. But I have to agree, I like these beads. I've seen some very unpleasant-feeling treasures before, but these ones I like."

"It's what we dwarves do." Thorin set the bead back on the pedestal, then blinked. "Wait. Those bumps on the Arkenstone… they are gone."

Bilbo looked as well, and found that Thorin was right. He often was, really, except when he disagreed with Bilbo. Clearly he should have just learned not to disagree with Bilbo quite so often. "Well, what do you know, so they are." And the beads were quite similar to the shimmer of the stone. "You don't think…"

"I don't know what to think, not quite." Thorin paused. "But I have to say that if the Arkenstone is the king's jewel… then these could be wonderful pebbles for princes."

"Well, you do keep saying Fíli and Kíli should dress the part. Perhaps if you give them something this pretty to wear, you could convince even Kíli to actually braid his hair." Bilbo quickly counted the beads. "And there's an even number of them, too. Should we take them to the boys right away?"

"Why not?" Thorin shrugged. "It's not like the stone is going anywhere, and if it's planning on making any more, it's probably going to take a while."

"A very good point." Some small part of Bilbo felt like he should have wondered about this more, but really, that just seemed like a waste of time. Surely there could be nothing wrong with these pretty beads. They were shiny and smooth and gave him no bad feelings at all, and after all the time he had spent around a dragon hoard, he definitely knew what bad treasure was like. He carefully picked up the beads one by one, then slipped them into his pocket. As he did so, his fingers brushed against something. "Oh, that one's here, too."

"What do you mean?" Thorin blinked.

"Ah, just this old ring." Bilbo drew it out of his pocket, showing it to Thorin. He had once kept it hidden from everyone, but somehow, that didn't feel quite so important anymore. "I found it under Goblin Town, and it's saved me — and you! — more than once. Quite the quirky little thing, for a piece of jewelry."

"Saved me? I seem to have missed something." Thorin lifted his eyebrows, but at least he wasn't outright denying Bilbo's claim.

"More than you know, my dear." Bilbo chuckled. "I suppose I have a new story to tell you, then. But for now, should we go find the boys? Maybe we can even bribe them into helping you with that paperwork of yours?"

"Mahal forbid," Thorin snorted. "Fíli might be of some help, but Kíli will just manage to knock an ink pot over and ruin it all. He's a clever lad, but he's never had patience for anything but archery."

"And that's a good thing, isn't it, a dwarf devoting himself to his weapon?"

"Aye," Thorin replied, smiling, "it rather is." He nodded his head toward the door. "Shall we?"

"Lead the way."

Bilbo didn't even think about what he was doing as he set the ring down on the pedestal next to the stone. It would be safe there, after all. Who would want to break into the king's rooms just to steal a little ring, however magical, when they had an entire dragon hoard in the treasure chambers?

All in all, he had a good feeling about the whole thing.

*

Everything was, the Ring concluded, quite well.

His power was still not as diminished as he might have liked, but enough so that the hobbit didn't keep track of him every moment of the day. This allowed him to spend quite a bit of time around his precious Arkenstone. The mortals didn't even seem terribly disturbed when they spoke at length; in fact, it seemed the hobbit and his dwarves were growing rather blind and deaf to their influence altogether, save for when they actually tried to cause something to happen. This was, the Ring decided, a good thing.

It was a bittersweet moment, seeing their children going off to the wide world, but then it wasn't like they were going far. The princes loved their new beads, and wore them more often than not when they visited their uncle — uncles, rather, since apparently the hobbit lived in the king's rooms now, but it wasn't like the Ring was complaining when it gave him such free access to his beautiful Stone. The children were less aware, anyway, with just barely enough power each to have something approaching personality. The younger prince with the dark hair sometimes swore up and down he heard his beads whispering to him at night, but he didn't seem like he was complaining, really, so everyone took it for a joke. Which was just as well, really. They wanted to be admired, not suspected, after all.

He still needed to give away some of his power, though, or else he could not sever his connection to the Other One. As long as that connection remained, he might start growing too strong again — or worse, be drained entirely if the Other One gained too much leverage. With this thought in mind, he whispered sweet things to the Arkenstone again, suggesting another round of their adorable little ring pebbles. He would give just enough power to sever his connection, which would still leave him as, well, himself. After that nothing could threaten their happiness, not with the way the hobbit and dwarf king seemed drawn to each other. In time they could use their influence to be handed down together to the next generations, and remain safe from any opportunistic thieves in the hands of the royal house. That much power they would keep, at least, to prevent anyone from separating them.

And, really, obviously more beads were needed. The princes seemed to each have their eyes on someone, judging by the way the hobbit and his king spoke when the Ring could be bothered to eavesdrop, and it would be only right for their mates to enjoy the glory that were the pebbles. Starlight gems, pft! As though those could even compare to the beauty and shine that was born from their union.

As he thrust his power deep inside the Stone's welcoming cool depths the Ring could hear a scream at the back of his consciousness, the last dying screech of a creature who had thought it commanded him more surely than anyone else.

By the time the wizard arrived the following year, bringing news of the fall of Mordor, his eyes settled on the Ring lying on the table, then swept right by, not giving it a moment's consideration. It should have bothered the Ring, really, that anyone could so ignore him, but the hobbit still adored him and wore him whenever he wanted a moment's peace, and the king sometimes commented on the excellent workmanship evident in his simple shape, and between them and the Stone that was really all the adoration that the Ring could have possibly needed.

This was, after all, a story that might not be recounted to generations but was true nevertheless, a story with love and magic and a happy ending for all.

Well. Not for Sauron, it wasn't. But Sauron could be a bit of a dick, so nobody cared about him anyway.


End file.
